“Elliot and Luce.”
“No,” he says, sounding so sure. “Luce isn’t Elliot’s type.”
“Why?”
Elliot said the same thing, which is frustrating. Call it women’s intuition, but there’s definitely something there.
Mason sits square in his seat, stretching out his legs. “She just isn’t.”
“Is he gay?”
He seems to choke on air because the next moment, he is bent over trying to clear his airway and control his hysterics. I sit staring at him, unamused, waiting for him to calm himself.
“No, definitely not gay,” he tells me.
“Well, I can see it with them. I’m calling it.”
He sits up in his seat and pulls me onto his lap so I’m straddling him. “Let’s make this interesting.” I look around at our friends, but none of them are watching us. “How long?”
“How long what?” All I can think about is how long his cock is right now, pushed up against me.
“Get your head out the gutter. Lucy and Elliot.” He rearranges me on his lap, lining himself up perfectly. It’s just the right amount of friction.
“Mase,” I warn.
“How. Long?” He draws out the words as if he knows what they are doing to me.
“I don’t know.” I try to form a coherent thought. Luce told me she isn’t interested. It’s just a feeling I get with those two. “A year?”
“A year? Shit, I’ve got this in the bag.” He grins. “So, if in one year nothing has happened between them…” He eyes me warily, unsure. “You have to marry me.”
“What?” I go statue-still. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Completely.” He leans in, kissing my neck.
“No.”
“No?” He pulls away, putting distance between us.
“Absolutely not. Christ, I don’t even think I want to get married, let alone within the next decade.”
His eyes flick around my face, and then he swallows, his hands lingering on my thighs.
“Fuck,” he sniggers. “I should set you up with fucking Montgomery.” He lifts me and places me back in my seat, then turns to look out the window.
Is he sulking?
“Mase? Sorry, that came out wrong.”
“It’s fine. Forget I said anything.”
“You’re mad at me.”
He looks back at me, his eyes softening some before his arm lifts for me to slip under. “No, not at you. Forget I said anything, okay?”
I slide into him, wrapping my arms around his waist. If he isn’t mad at me, then who?
* * *
